


The Morning After

by ladyblahblah



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Crack, Crossdressing, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-30
Updated: 2012-01-30
Packaged: 2017-10-30 08:25:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/329766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyblahblah/pseuds/ladyblahblah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kirk wakes up after a hell of a party.  Crackiness ensues.  You don't know his amnesiac pain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Morning After

**Title:** The Morning After  
 **Author:** [](http://ladyblahblah.livejournal.com/profile)[**ladyblahblah**](http://ladyblahblah.livejournal.com/)    
 **Fandom:** Star Trek XI  
 **Pairing:** Kirk/Spock  
 **Rating:** PG-13?  Yeah, sure, why not?  
 **Summary:** Kirk wakes up.  Crackiness ensues.  You don't know his amnesiac pain.  
  
  
Kirk is hungover. He can tell by the way his mouth feels like it's been coated in turpentine-soaked cotton and the way his eyes are refusing to open. _Trust us,_ they're saying. _You'll thank us later._ Of course, Kirk has never been particularly good at following his body's sage advice. He opens his eyes.  
  
They're right. Oh _fuck_ are they ever right.  
  
By the time the blinding pain finally subsides his eyes are no longer speaking to him. This is, he's pretty sure, a good thing in the long-run. Especially since his stomach has decided to protest now, and very vocally. What was he thinking, it wants to know, opening his eyes against their express advice? And oh, _no_ , did he just try to move? Was he a complete freaking moron? Well, his stomach wasn't having any of it, and roiled violently to make sure its point was felt.  
  
So Kirk lies there with his eyes squeezed tightly closed against a supernova or something, he doesn't know what the hell else could be so bright, and pointedly Does Not Move. With nothing better to do, he decides to see if he could remember what had gotten him into this state to begin with.  
  
It's difficult to think over the pounding in his head, but Jim Kirk does't believe in no-win-- _shit_ , no, he did't mean to move, it was an accident! It won't happen again!  
  
He isn't sure how much later it is by the time he finally managed to gather his thoughts. Hours, possibly. Days doesn't seem completely out of the question. Unfortunately, he's no closer to an answer than he was at the beginning. He can't remember a damned thing.  
  
Feeling adventurous, he tries cracking his eyes open just the tiniest bit. They grumble at him but comply, and the light doesn't seem _quite_ so bright this time around. It still takes him a good ten minutes before he manages to get a good look at his surroundings, but progress is progress. And his spirits lift to see that he's in his own quarters. Whatever happened, he thinks, it couldn't have been too bad if he's managed to be in his own bed at the end of it all.  
  
Until he realizes what he was wearing.  
  
Kirk has no idea what could have inspired him to dress up like a bad imitation-Superman. That seems a bit beyond the pale, even for him. Though he can't help but be impressed at the large 'K' insignia blazoned across his chest; that must have taken some work. The entire costume is in rough shape, though. The bulk of it has sustained enough tears to compete with one of his away-mission shirts, and the leggings--even in his debilitated state Kirk refuses to call them tights--are hanging on by a literal thread, apparently having been ripped right off of his legs at one point. The sheets beneath him are sticky, he realizes, and there are some rather suspicious-looking stains on the fabric struggling to cover his stomach and chest.  
  
Ah-hah. A clue.  
  
Kirk resigns himself to the fact that he's not going to get any answers just lying there. A quick mental check has him determined that he can--probably--make it down to Sickbay for one of Bones's patented (not really, despite Kirk's constant encouragement) Hangover Hypos. He struggles to his feet, pausing when the room lurches rudely, trying to knock him down, and stumbles to the 'fresher. At least, he muses, things can't get much weirder.  
  
When he sees Spock curled up in the shower, sound asleep and wearing the remains of a Playboy Bunny outfit that looks as battered as Jim's own costume, he is forced to conclude that he has entered some sort of strange alternate universe.  
  
Hey, there are precedents.  
  
He eases back into his own quarters, his mind ablaze with a single question:  
  
What the _fuck_ happened last night?


End file.
